The Storm Over, Limelight Seeks Its Niche

August 30, 1985|By Rick Kogan.

The furor has subsided and Limelight remains--doing business, too, it has been obvious from a number of visits. Rarely has the opening of a nightclub caused so much sturm und drang among the city`s social observers and nocturnal playpeople.

Surely you have heard of the recent opening night debacle that resulted in the bruised egos of dozens of theretofore significant Chicago celebrities who were forced to WAIT IN LINE.

On that opening night, a fellow named Dennis DeYoung, the lead singer of the rock band Styx and a person whose attendance was highly coveted by the Limelight honchos (``We would love to send a limousine for Mr. DeYoung and his wife,`` the Limelight folks gushed and gushed again even after hearing that the DeYoungs live a full 45 minutes away), arrived on foot, made his way around the waiting mob and, without mentioning his name, entered.

Inside, he surveyed the scene and said, ``This place is in trouble. If I`m the big celebrity here tonight, Limelight will be closed by Tuesday.``

There indeed was an eerie emphasis on celebrity that opening night and one fully expected to run into Ray Meyer jawing with Andy Warhol in the upstairs VIP Room: ``So, Andrew, what do you think of St. John`s chances this year?``

But Chicago is not, the Limelight folks have been learning, as celebrity- conscious or conspicuous a town as New York (where there is another Limelight) and Los Angeles (where there is not). We expect to find our celebrities on the floor of the City Council, the boards of the Stadium, the carpet of Soldier Field or the grass at Wrigley or Comiskey and not lounging lizard-like in the VIP room at Limelight, Ontario and Dearborn Streets (337-2985).

Ignoring the many subplots and socio-political dramas swirling around Limelight`s debut, After Hours has made a number of visits to the club over the past few weeks, treating it, as much as possible, as simply another new Chicago nightclub. In the company of a variety of nighttime natives, we have given it a thorough going over and the following, with typical subjectivity and comments by some of our companions, are some observations.

The lines: It is much easier to get through the waiting crowds here than it is at such places as The Ultimate Sports Bar & Grill or any of the Division Street boites (Mother`s, the Snuggery, etc.) There is a secret signal--if you knew it, they`d just change it--that makes entrance immediate. But being pushy is equally effective. Costumes seem to count for something; there remains an emphasis on the outre. But trying to get the right ``mix`` inside can be a dangerous game and frequently the line outside was predominantly black while the crowd inside was not black enough.

The cover: Ridiculous. Five dollars or seven dollars. ``If I pay that much to get in a place, I`ll make sure I do my drinking someplace else.``

The booze: Ditto. Overpriced and slow in being served.

The music: Surprisingly pedestrian, a tired mix of dance tunes that sounds silly coming from a first-rate sound system.

The place: Virtually every one of our companions found the variety of

``experiences`` in the 40,000-square-foot club pleasing. ``It`s like an amusement park for drunks.`` The dance floor received high marks and though the ``artworks`` encased in glass were of only transient interest, ``the ability to cruise was great. The doom room (a large, muraled space) is a nice escape from the music and that area outside the bathrooms is a happening.``

The crowd: ``Where are all the weirdos?`` And especially on weeknights, the crowd has a very traditional look. On Friday and Saturday nights, one will see some sartorial wackiness and some beauty shop madness.

The VIP Room: Simply not very VIP-ish, a dark area with couches that affords access to a balcony from which one can ogle the line outside. One companion, dressed simply in suit and tie, got in this way:

``How do I get in the VIP Room?``

``Who are you?``

``I`m with the hardware convention.``

``Okay, here are a couple of passes.``

There is more we could say, more stories we could tell, but why bother?

The fate of any nightclub--neighborhood joint or multimillion dollar extravaganza--is controlled by a number of different elements, never by one printed opinion.

Limelight is not a bad place. It is not run by evil characters. Many of our first-time companions already have returned. They loved it. A few others said they never will return. They hated it. And it is on that precarious love- hate high wire that the Limelight act continues.